


While we make other plans

by Phoenix_Mary



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Mary/pseuds/Phoenix_Mary
Summary: Phryne hadn't made plans for her life in a long time, but she'd always known what she doesn't want. This is it.This is the story of a unwelcome surprise in the 1930s where an independent woman and a good man navigate societal pressures, family expectations and an illness that doesn't yet exist.*Warning deals with depression and it's perception in 1930s*





	1. London, April 1930

**Author's Note:**

> I might have a problem, but writing angst cheers me up in real life.

London, April 1930 

She’s heard stories about out of body experiences, where you float above and watch the last minutes of your life. Is this what’s happening, is she dying? She doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not for this! The pain increases as her body stretches. It keeps going and going until she’s rushing back into herself. She’s being split in two. Phryne screams. Then, the pressure eases. Finally, she thinks tiredly. Someone she doesn’t know wipes sweat of her face. Outside, cats or foxes or something are yowling terribly. She wishes someone would go out and chase them away. The yowling comes closer. Oh right, Phryne remembers. A red screaming thing is presented to her. She reaches out automatically, like she has seen countless mothers do. Waits for her to love it. Isn’t that how it works. Mothers see these squealing red things and fall in love with them. She waits. Tries to see herself in this thing. Tries to find the father in its features. Dread settles in her stomach. She feels nothing, but tired.   
“Miss?” the midwife sounds worried. Phryne thinks of Dot, cooing over Mary’s baby. It takes a little effort, but Phryne had mastered hiding what she truly felt before she was twelve. Her act seems to convince people, as everyone relaxes around her.   
“A good healthy baby boy, Ma’am” the doctor states. A boy. Her father will be disappointed, she thinks numbly. There she went, having a child, a son even and yet he’s not an heir for the barony. She plays her role, lets them take the child away to be presented to her family, gets herself cleaned up. Let’s herself be settled again, the child returned to her, this time not by a stranger but by her mother.   
“What a beautiful boy, Phryne.” Her mother gushes over her grandson. “Your father is asking about his name for the registration.”  
This, she can do. “No.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“You’ll understand that I will not leave that to father, surely mother?”  
“Phryne.” Her mother sounds scandalised, looking around making sure no one else is in the room. “I know that…”  
“I will register him myself in the morning.”  
“You will need rest, Phryne.”  
“I will be well enough to ensure he is registered correctly.”  
“Very well.” Months ago she had flown her father across the world to reconcile her parents for her mother’s sake. Now, the disappointment and disapproval pearls of her. She feels nothing. Her mother leaves the room. Slowly as if she expects Phryne to call her back. She looks at the thing in her arms. Blessedly it’s not screaming. She looks and waits, but the feeling doesn’t come. The baby’s mouth is moving, searching. Sighing, the opens her robe. Her breasts are heavy and foreign. It latches onto her nipple, and she grits her teeth against the pain. Tears shoot into her eyes. She wants to go home. She wants Mac brash reassurances, and Dot’s fussing. And Jack. She bites her lip against the sobs. Tries not to move so she doesn’t have to start over latching. She wants Jack. His steadfastness, the kindness, his Jack-ness. If only she can get home, everything will be well. The thing, she supposes, will have to come with her.


	2. Melbourne, July 1930

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was when she left has been lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Hi Peeps. It's been a while and I don't even have a good excuse beyond I kinda forgot. Here's the next chapter. It's a short one but they'll get longer as we get to the heart of the story. I need to do some minor editing to the rest of the story but the vast amount has been written, so hopefully the next chapter won't take this long.

Melbourne, July 1930  
Jack Robinson is standing at the docks of Melbourne, heart threating to jump out of his chest. It has been months since he’s last seen Phryne, held her in his arms and felt her lips on his. He’s not sure what will happen now. They seemed to finally be on the same page, letters where words were written he’d never dare to speak. Vague plans to meet halfway once she sorted her parents financial trouble. Then, suddenly nothing. No replies to letters or telegrams. He’d have gone out of his mind with worry, half convinced something terrible had happened to her, had he not known she had continued to write to Jane and Mrs. Collins. Had spent a good few nights drinking far too much as he came to terms with her ending what they had been so close to having. He’d gone from worried to angry to scared, back and forth and everything in between too. Now she had sent for him, and like a fool he had gone. The gangplanks are attached to the ship and he looks for her amongst the passengers. There. He smiles against his will as he drinks in her appearance. Her bare face is fuller than he remembers. Hungry, his eyes pass over her body. Her hips and belly are rounded, her décolletage voluptuous. Oh, Jack thinks, frozen where he stands. Phryne turns to lift something and when she walks towards him, she cradles a blanket bundle in her arms. Oh. Oh god, she had a child. He doesn’t know when or with whom, but it becomes clear now why she stopped writing him. He understands. What could she have said. Would he have even believed her were he not seeing it with his own eyes? He’s staring.   
“Say something.”  
“Wha” he clears his throat. Tries again. “Welcome home.” He’s desperately grappling for the equilibrium he had found in the months since she stopped writing. For all the hopes he had harboured, (the ones he had buried a long time ago - a child) she had never given him promises. He had all the world to compete with. Somewhere out there, she had come across a man to have a child with. Where is that man now? Will he follow her here? Has she married him, or is she planning to? Has he left her? Or she him?  
“Jack.” Her tone transports him back to her parlour when she asked him to keep her shadows abay, to her grieving for Janey and Arthur. She steps closer to him, and he embraces her without thinking about it. It’s not something they do. Yet, he can’t resist her needing him. Her head is resting against his shoulder. And instead of her arms around him, she is holding her child. Whatever they were going to be when she left, has forever changed. When the bundle between them protests, he loosens his hold on her.   
“No.”  
“Miss Fisher.”  
“Not yet.”  
“I should take you home. Your friends are waiting for you, I believe.”  
“No.”  
“No they’re not waiting for you? No I shouldn’t take you home?”  
“Both. Neither.” She isn’t making any sense. Worry claws to the top in the swirl of his emotions.  
“Why don’t we go to the car. It’s cold out here.” Phryne agrees, follows him quietly. She’s never quiet or docile unless things are seriously wrong and she’s shaken to her very essence. He helps her into the car, before going around and settling in the driver’s seat. He waits for her to say something, but nothing comes. Jack starts driving, mainly so the car will heat and protect them from the cold.   
“I’ve never been to your home.” Is the first thing she says as they drive, so he directs the car towards his home.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to publish this work until I had finished writing it (which to be fair it almost is) and it had been proofread but because life, I decided to go ahead with the first chapter/prologue. Other chapters to follow as they're edited when time allows  
> Looking forward to hear what you think. Thanks for reading


End file.
